


Until You Come Back Home

by merlin91



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, At least not all of them, But not in the way they died in Canon, Canonical Character Death, Cousin Incest, F/M, Like some Canon characters die, M/M, Meant To Be, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, R plus L equals J, a shit load of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-10-04
Packaged: 2018-11-19 18:42:59
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 15,847
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11319351
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merlin91/pseuds/merlin91
Summary: Jon Snow and Robb Stark grow up together and are inseparable from the moment a blue-eyed babe grabbed the small fist of a grey-eyed infant and never let go.It would always have ended in this way.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first foray into the nearly dead fandom (sobbs) of Jon/Robb (JoBB in my mind) that I only recently discovered to my eternal dismay. Heed the tags, and please don't read if they squick you out. 
> 
> I have not read the books and so am basing the characters on the TV show. This is unbeta'ed so all mistakes are mine (and if anyone is interested in betaing please let me know). 
> 
> As always, I own nothing and am just writing for practice and pleasure.

"Who is he Ned? Whose son is he?" Catelyn Stark asked her Lord husband, cradling her own babbling firstborn closer to her chest. 

Lord Eddard Stark looked at the tiny bundle in his arms. Black hair, darker than the darkest winter night lay wispily across the snow white pale forehead. The child's grey eyes _(Stark eyes, a voice whispered in his mind)_ looked up at him attentively. Ned closed his own similar eyes and sighed deeply. What should he tell his lady wife? Should he claim the babe as his bastard, or should he tell the truth? He could see the scenarios playing out before his eyes- Catelyn would detest the child, branding it a bastard of the lowest order (as his mother would have to be a whore of the lowest order to seduce the honorable Ned Stark). Catelyn would be miserable and would make sure the child would be miserable as well and the resentment would only grow as the child would age. Ned didn't want that. He wanted his sister's son to be as loved as he would have been had she been alive to look after him; he wanted Jon to know a mother's love and a father's care. But if he did that, if he told the truth about his lineage, the child’s very life would be in danger. He knew Robert’s madness first-hand and he could not let this innocent bear the brunt of that insane hatred. With a resolute sigh, he made his decision. 

"He is my son. Meet Jon Snow."

With a shocked gasp, Catelyn stumbled to sit, still cradling Robb. 

"Your son?” she whispered. 

"Aye," Ned agreed, opening his eyes to lock them with the same Stark eyes still looking up at him. At least no one would suspect that the child was not his own. Tenderly, Ned traced one finger down the soft cheek. The babe gurgled happily and reached out to clutch Ned's finger tightly. A happy laugh came out unbidden from the Lord of Winterfell. "We will raise him as my son, Cat. Do you understand?" he asked his lady wife, a plea in his voice. 

After a long silence, broken only by the childish babbles of Robb, Catelyn sighed. "I understand my Lord. I will do right by him. He is, after all, only a motherless child." 

Ned walked over to Cat, and hugged her tightly, her head resting on his stomach. "Can I hold him?" She asked softly. 

Gently Ned took Robb and lay Jon in his place in her arms. For the first time since she had seen her Lord husband enter their chambers with the bundle in his arms and feeling emotions ranging from anguish to deep sorrow to shock and now resigned acceptance, Catelyn Stark looked at the boy she was holding. A sweet smile looked up at her with the grey Stark eyes –a reminder that this was indeed her husband’s bastard- and as she watched, the babe yawned- tiny mouth opening and closing soundlessly. Something within her clenched at the sight. 

“Welcome to Winterfell, Jon Snow,” she whispered, praying to the Seven that she could practice what she had promised to her lord husband.

 

___________

 

Catelyn sighed as she looked at her moping nearly-two year old.

“What happened now, Robb?” she asked him tiredly. “What did you do?”

Robb looked up at her sadly. He held out his hands and simply said “Jon.” 

Catelyn sighed again. Of course. She should have known that there was nothing and no-one capable of bringing her eternally cheerful child down except the bastard boy. Stooping down to pick him up, she started walking towards the chambers assigned to Jon. “What is wrong with him?” she questioned.

“He won’t wake.” Robb wailed, lower lip trembling furiously. 

Catelyn hoped to the Seven that the bastard child was simply tired and not actually ill. She knew she should care for him as well even if he was ill, but just one look at those features made something nauseous rise inside her. The bastard looked more like Ned than even his own trueborn son and that grated on her nerves as much as the fact that her husband was not faithful to her. Try as she might, she could not pray for him to get well, so instead she prayed that he was only tired. 

Entering the dark chambers, she shivered. No wonder the child was ill, if this was the condition in his chambers. She would need to speak to the serving girls. Setting Robb down next to his half-brother- who she could see was buried deep inside the furs, only the tips of his hair visible- she went to stoke the fire in the hearth. She turned when she heard her child’s cheery voice ring out excitedly. 

“Mother! He is waking up!” Robb bounced next to the sleepily blinking boy. “Jon! Jon!” Robb roughly pulled at the small arm with a jerk and even Catelyn winced at that. Jon’s little face crumpled, and he starting crying softly. If it was any other child, Catelyn would have sympathized. It was obviously not easy for the still sleepy boy to understanding what was happening and why he was being pulled so roughly. 

Robb had immediately let the arm go, staring at the crying boy in horror. “Mother! Why is he crying? Mother, make him stop crying!” Robb said, frightened at the turn of events. Even before she could move though, _(and she was reluctant to move she admitted to herself)_ , Robb was crawling over and cradling Jon’s face in his chubby palms. “Jon, Jon, don’t cry. Please,” he was mumbling, trying to wipe the tears spilling unchecked from the grey eyes. When Jon sniffled, tears forgotten at the way Robb was now in his space and demanding him to stop crying, and looked at Robb with teary eyes, Robb swooped forward and kissed him the way she kissed him on his brow when she soothed his tears. Catelyn’s breath caught in her throat at that gesture. Jon too was looking at his brother quietly now, blinking back tears at the soft gesture. Robb smiled down at him then and wiped at the tear tracks again with his palms. The way Jon was staring at his big brother in amazement made Catelyn think that despite his initial cry for help, Robb was handling the situation quite well on his own. She was not needed at all.

Jon had his brother’s love; why would he need a mother then?

 

________

 

“Robb get back here,” Lord Eddard said gruffly.

The six year old did not listen to him though. As soon as he received the gifts from Lord Manderly, he was off. Wyman did not take offense though, laughing uproariously at the sight of his heir dragging the heavy parcel behind him.

Ned looked at his wife in consternation. Sure enough, she was frowning after her disappearing child while bouncing a fussy Arya. Two year old Sansa was standing quietly next to her mother, hiding behind her skirts when the overly enthusiastic Lord Manderly again burst into raucous laughter. 

“Ah to be young again and escape the duties thrust upon us! Eh, what say Ned?” Wyman asked Ned jovially.

 

With an inward sigh, Net straightened and met the grinning eyes of his bannerman. _If only_. Ned knew where Robb had scampered off to. He was not shirking his duties- Robb would never do that. Unless of course, there was something the matter with Jon. And that was the reason behind his wife’s frown as well. She too knew Robb had gone to show the gifts to his bastard brother. The tantrum his heir had thrown earlier, when Catelyn had asked Jon to not come to greet the visiting Lord as it was not ‘proper’, had been of epic proportions. Robb had railed and screamed and generally behaved as far from a little lord as he could. But then he had fallen silent, and Ned knew he should have known the wolfling was planning something of this sort.

Letting the Lord have his laugh, Ned and his remaining family welcomed their party as per norm. They continued their discussions all day, till they finally broke for dinner. Ned saw Catelyn look around the dining hall and he himself lifted his head to look. As suspected, Robb was nowhere to be seen. Well, she did not have anyone to blame but herself, Ned mused to himself as he took a bite of the delicious meat prepared in honor of the visiting party. She knew Robb was fastidious when she ignored Jon, and yet she persisted to treat the boy with less regard as usual. Had she allowed him to dine with them Ned was sure his young wolf would have been present as well.

Dinner continued pleasantly enough, as Ned skillfully diverted his lady wife’s attention to baby Arya who was throwing her food around gleefully and making a mess of herself and old Nan as well.

Well after dinner and after he had escorted Lord Manderly to his own quarters and bid him a good night, Ned took a quick detour to Jon’s chambers. As he neared, he could hear loud laughter and the sound of wood thwacking against wood. And sure enough, when he opened the door to peek in, he saw his heir and his nephew battling with the wooden swords Lord Manderly had gifted Robb. There was a gleeful smile on Robb’s face as he used his superior bulk to hit heavily at his still-delicate brother, who despite his smaller stature, was holding his own remarkably well as Ned looked on approvingly. Both the boys were now of age where he should probably ask Ser Rodrick to start their training. 

When Robb chanced a glance at the open door and saw him peering in, he gave a small gasp and immediately put his sword down, pulling at Jon with the other. Ned looked on in amusement as Robb tried to push his younger brother behind him, trying to shield him from Ned’s apparent anger it seemed. Jon was having none of it though, and a tussle broke out that had Ned laughing quietly. By the Gods, both his sons (and yes Jon was his son as much as Robb) were intent on protecting the other from the lashing they knew they would be getting. With a quiet smile, he approached the two and kneeled down in front of them. Neither Robb nor Jon were brave enough to look him in the eyes though they had stopped fighting as soon as Ned had approached them. 

“Boys,” he began quietly. “Did you eat?”

Robb looked up at him once, as if gauging his mood and quickly nodded. Jon mumbled something in agreement as well, still looking down. 

“Okay. Robb, I know you know what you did was not proper. Listen to me first.” Ned made his voice firmer when he saw Robb about to protest. Robb subsided unhappily. “You disappointed your lady mother, and for that you will apologize to her tomorrow before breaking your fast. Is that clear?” Robb nodded once miserably. “But I understand why you did what you did. So, I am not going to punish you any further. But keep in mind- this will not be tolerated in the future.”

Jon looked up at him then and cleared his throat. “Lord Stark, I will not let him disappoint the Stark family any more on my behalf,” he said in a small voice. Ned’s chest ached at the wordings- the Stark family. _Oh Jon_ , he thought sadly. Lyanna would have wept at seeing her boy so sure that her family was not his own. _What have I done,_ Ned asked himself wretchedly for the thousandth time.

Robb was furiously wiping his eyes at that. Ned glanced at him, and from the miserable expression on his face, he knew Jon’s words had hurt him on a deeper level. His boy was simple in the way he dealt with his relations- brother was brother, be that from whatever mother. Jon was his brother, from the first second he had laid eyes on the little babe and reached out a grubby hand to grasp Jon’s own small fist. No one could say or do anything to change that fact. Ned wished he had his son’s clear focus sometimes. 

“You are a Stark too, child. I apologize if that has not been made clearer to you before,” Ned said softly, looking at Jon now. The boy took a shivering breath, and he could see that he was fighting back tears. Robb was now beaming at them both though, tears forgotten, and he reached out to catch Jon’s hand in his own, reminding Ned strongly of the similar action he had done when just a babe.

“My blood runs through your veins boys. Always remember that,” he told them proudly. 

 

__________

 

Years passed and Lord Eddard was blessed with two more healthy children. 

As for his eldest two, as could be seen from their childhood, they were nigh inseparable as they grew older. Whenever one went, the other would most certainly follow. He knew that his lady wife was not happy with the closeness. He had seen the resentment always present in her eyes whenever she glanced at Jon. She had tried to hide that, Ned knew, but had failed desperately to make Jon believe he was a part of their family. Despite her best intentions, and his best interventions, Jon never forgot that he was a bastard.

His children too picked up on that fact. Not Robb obviously; Gods’ forbid anyone said anything against Jon in his presence- the heir of Winterfell would tear them a new one if he had the slightest hint of anyone troubling his beloved brother. He was fierce in his defense of the boy as always, even standing up to his lady mother for him. Ned knew that Catelyn felt the worst when that happened. Arya too loved her older half brother and would always be found trailing around the pair, trying to get them to teach her to fight. Bran was also very much attached to the bastard of Winterfell and Rickon was too young to differentiate. 

It was Sansa who was her mother’s child in that aspect. She treated him worse than Catelyn, Ned thought- and it probably hurt Jon more as he could justify Catelyn’s hate, but Sansa’s behavior left him at odds. Ned had seen him trying to brave the vitriol his now eleven year old spewed at him, and to his greatest sorrow, Ned found himself unable to interfere as the decision had been made by him long back. He could only offer a kind word to the boy later – praise his footwork or his reflexes- when he found him stoically practicing his sword work in the yard. Jon always breathed a little easy after that, as if the validation that the Lord of Winterfell still cared about him lessened the burden of shouldering the hatred of the Ladies of Winterfell.

But it was Robb who was the best at cheering Jon up whenever he would wander around morosely after his interactions with either Catelyn or Sansa. Ned had seen the way Robb would corner his brother when he tried to hide his sadness. He would grip his brother’s shoulders, trying to get him to look at him. Jon would shrug him off and continue doing so – but in the end he always ended up submitting to his heir’s stubbornness. When Jon would finally break and tell Robb, from the way his hands tightened at his sides and the way his eyes flashed, Ned knew that the furious boy would be having words with his mother that day. His Robb had always been a possessive child, and he loved fiercely and at times like these, Ned felt the boy did not love anything or anyone more than Jon Snow. The way he would gently cradle the bastard in his arms after the emotional upheaval and comfort him, petting his hair and rubbing his arms and shoulders made Ned feel uncomfortable. This happened frequently, as his wife and daughter could not suffer the bastard’s presence it seemed. 

Boys had always been too close (as his lady wife always seemed to stress on, urging him to send Jon to the Wall frequently) and looking at the way his son was holding Jon’s face in his hands after the latest altercation the boy had with his good wife made Ned discomfited. Robb was softly murmuring to him, brushing his thumbs across the pale cheeks lovingly. Ned felt then that maybe his wife had a point. He knew for a fact that they still shared a bed at times – long past the age where a nightmare would be the reason when they would need comfort from each other. He had tried to separate them once, but facing the hollow-eyed children the next morning (both had clearly not been able to sleep the night apart), he had sighed and given in. And when he saw the soft smile gracing his nephew’s face when he looked at his brother as he tried to lessen the sting of his mother’s harsh words with his gentle touch- he knew he would never try and force them apart again. After all, love was the strongest weapon any man could possess – be it romantic love or fraternal love. Let the boys have their closeness till Robb came of age and took a lady wife of his own. Till then, Ned would not interfere.

_________

 

Robb was in so much trouble. 

He strode through the castle, heart clenching in distress as he recalled the way the Jon’s eyes had stared at him with stunned hurt when he had jokingly bet with Theon about who would win the fifteen year olds’ services as a squire in their spar (services as a servant if Robb was honest with himself as he knew Theon did not need a squire ever) before the younger boy had turned his face away and retreated. He hated himself for that. He never wanted to be the one to hurt his brother but somehow, unintentionally, he had ended up doing the very thing he had sworn to protect his brother from. To see that beloved face in pain caused him pain. 

He approached Jon’s chamber and stood hesitating in front of the closed door. His lady mother had made some ridiculous demand some moons ago and shifted his own chambers (along with all his siblings- only Jon was excepted) to the other side of the wing, and between his duties and the increased training, it had been almost six months since he last stepped foot in there. The place where he and Jon used to spend hours - just the two of the, where they would playfully wrestle till one of them tired out and then cuddle till they fell asleep, where they whispered and shared their dreams and fears- with a sudden pang in his heart, Robb realized that it had been so long since he had done any of those things with his younger brother. He suddenly realised that he missed that closeness so much he could not breathe for a moment. He did not understand why he had been avoiding Jon for so many moons- why there had been a growing distance between them for sometime. That distance had lead to the completely inappropriate bet he had ended up making with Theon. By the Gods, he was so foolish. He needed to fix things with his brother. He needed _Jon_.

 

Slowly he pushed the door open and walked in, closing the door after him. Just being inside this place where he had so many happy memories unclenched something deep within him. He looked over at the bed in the far corner of the chamber, and spied the dark hair beneath the furs piled on top of the bed. Suddenly he could no longer bear that he and Jon were not touching, that he was not skin to skin with his brother. Stripping down to his undershirt and small clothes, Robb made his way to the bed and got under the covers. He immediately reached out to his warm, pliant brother, pulling him gently to his side so that Robb could bury his face in his spot-the spot between Jon's neck and shoulder where he always used to bury his face. He breathed in deeply, smelling the scent of pine and leather and something so uniquely Jon that said home to him. He opened his mouth against the warm skin of Jon’s neck and sucked- tasting clean sweat. He wanted to bury himself inside this skin; he wanted to never be apart ever again.

 

A hand came up to gently tangle in his curls. Robb sobbed then, murmuring against Jon’s neck. “I’m sorry, I’m so _sorry_ Jon-“. 

Jon shushed him, turning and pulling him in closer so that Robb was now nearly on top of him. He clutched him tighter and murmured back, “Shh- its okay sweetling. I know you did not mean it. _I know_.”

Robb raised his tear-stricken face to look at Jon. Grey eyes stared back at him calmly and lovingly, as one hand grasped his arm and the hand in his hair moved to brush the curls off his forehead. It seemed as if they had never been apart at all. 

“You are not mad?” Robb whispered searchingly. 

Jon thumbed the tears streaks away and traced his upper lip. With a heavy sigh and a self-deprecating smile, he whispered back, “I can never be mad at you, my lord.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, Jon still tracing the shape of his lips. It had been a long time since they were this close together. He and Jon had always been very tactile with each other, especially in the privacy of their chambers. Robb could recollect any number of occasions when he had been curled up with Jon, sometimes talking about their day, sometimes simply needing the comfort of each other as they slept. He could recall the way Jon would lean into him when he would hug him, and the way they always gravitated towards each other if they were in the same room. As the wandering fingers made another pass over his lips, Robb opened his mouth slightly to catch the tip of his thumb between his teeth. Jon’s breath hitched and the hand on his arm tightened. Slowly, Robb sucked at the digit in his mouth, eyes never leaving Jon’s. He did not know what he was doing but watching the way Jon was looking at him was making something inside him _curl_ and he felt a frission of something travel down his spine. He released the finger, and continued to stare at Jon’s wide eyes. He slowly reclaimed his original position, tucking his head in Jon’s neck. They lay like that for some time, just breathing together. Jon was restlessly moving his hand across Robb’s shoulders when Robb opened his mouth at the same spot he had sucked earlier and sucked again, this time more forcefully. Jon let out a tiny gasp at that, clutching him tighter. Robb nipped and sucked his way to the strong but still delicate jaw and paused there to look once again at his brother who had his eyes closed. By the Gods, his brother was so pretty. He had started breathing heavily and so had Jon. 

“What are you doing?” Jon whispered breathily as he opened his steel grey eyes to lock them with the blue of Robb’s own.

“I don’t know,” Robb panted back, already wanting to put his mouth back on the tempting stretch of pale throat. “Is it not good?” he questioned Jon hesitantly. In response, Jon clenched the hand which was somehow again tangled in his curls and slowly drew him back to his neck. “I- I don’t-," he started to say but Robb cut the mumble off as he pressed his mouth to his Adam’s apple and sucked it. Jon moaned then, and Robb wanted to moan in return. He did not know what he was doing but the reactions he was evoking in Jon spurred him to continue to kiss his way up to the gorgeous lips that were openly panting now. He paused for a moment and then covered them with his own. Both stilled at that. Rob could feel the soft puffs of breath against his nose and cheek and he closed his eyes and he pressed his lips to Jon’s soft ones a little harder, and Jon leaned up to make it easier.

A sound outside the door froze them. Robb lifted himself up on own elbow gradually, still keeping their lips connected till he had to break the connection. He stared into Jon’s eyes for a long moment, and leaned forward quickly to brush their lips again. Jon giggled at that.

“What was that for?” he asked amidst the giggles.

Robb smiled down at him. “We had a fight and then we made up.”

“Oh? Is this how you make up with all those you fight with, my lord?” Jon teased, amusement twinkling in his grey eyes. 

“No- this is just for us. From now on, every time we fight, this is how we will make up,” Robb declared, smile widening at the flush his statement caused to rise in Jon’s pale cheeks.

“Okay. I agree that it is a most pleasant way to resolve discord.” 

Shaking his head at the little brat’s impertinence, Robb heaved himself up and went to fetch his clothes where he had discarded them in a hurry. 

“I will see you at dinner, my lord,” Jon murmured, nestling back in his cozy furs. Robb finished dressing and turned to look at him and the picture he made- flushed face, tunic open at the throat to show the pale throat which Robb had been so generously claiming, wrapped in warm furs- the same feeling which Robb had so increasingly been feeling crept up inside him again. Robb wanted to forget everything – all his duties as the future Lord, his studies, his training- and just go and curl up in the warmth of his brother. Throat tight with the unnamed feeling, Robb simply nodded and then strode out.

He was seriously in _so_ much trouble.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Forgot to mention this the last time- title of the fic is from the Taylor Swfit/Zayn Malik song "I don't wanna live forever"- not the original song but the Jonah Baker cover of it which is simply lovely and a perfect fit for JoBB in my mind. 
> 
> Unbeta'ed so all mistakes are mine. And as always, I don't own anything! 
> 
> Enjoy!

 

The wildling attack was unexpected, and the small Stark group which was out for a simple jaunt- was caught completely unawares.

It was fortunate that Robb had chosen to carry his sword with him on the spur-of-the-moment excursion he was on though. He shuddered to think what would have happened had he not been armed.

Whirling around on the balls of his feet expertly as taught by Ser Rodrick, Robb ducked and weaved his way between the two wildlings who had decided he was the biggest threat and converged on him together. He slammed his elbow in the gut of one and parried the blow from the other with a twist of his wrist. He watched in satisfaction as the one he had elbowed grunted in pain and fell to the ground, clutching his stomach tightly- it seemed he had a previous injury there. But then he had to have all his concentration focused on the other as he reared back to attack Robb with a growl. The blows were heavy and fast despite the size of the man, but Robb had been trained well (and he practiced with Jon, who was far more elegant and far more fast in his sword fighting) and soon that man was also kneeling on the ground, with Robb’s sword point at his neck.

He looked around then, panting to catch his breath, and saw that Theon had the other two wildings (one female and one male) riddled with arrows. Gods, Theon had killed today. He knew the Greyjoy boy took pride in that though, and the thought left him feeling a little queasy. He too would have been forced to kill today, Robb thought with a start, adrenaline still making his blood pump faster. The wildlings were desperate, and that showed in the way they fought, and had Robb could as easily have killed them too. 

Theon was now bent near Maester Luwin who was leaning down next to Bran, patting him down to check for injuries. Bran had been the one to warn them though as he had seen the first wildling as he had burst from the underbrush. In the ensuing battle, the little Stark had jumped down from his horse and quickly made his way to the Maester who had been at a distance when the attack happened. Robb spared a momentary thought to thank the Gods that Jon had declined to come today with them, citing some work in the library. He did not know what he would have done had he seen someone harming Jon.

Shifting a little to better grip his sword, Robb missed seeing the wilding he had elbowed getting up from the ground with a cry and rushing towards him. He turned in shock and barely had time to digest the fact that he was being attacked when he felt the wilding’s dagger pierce his unprotected stomach. In the sudden bloom of pain all along his left side, he somehow managed to stab the other man with his own sword, and felt it go through the armour the man had on and straight on till it protruded from the back. In a daze, he could hear the shouts of his men and then he was falling, with the man he had killed _(he had killed someone, dear Gods, his first kill)_ being dragged down with him as he was somehow still holding on to his sword. There were frantic hands on him then, and he looked up to see Theon and Maester Luwin grasping him and pulling him away from the body, which fell to the ground with a dull thud. 

“Don’t look there Robb, look at me,” the Maester’s calm voice was saying. “Look at me lad, there, there.”

Feeling dizzy, the last thing Robb remembered was the faint feeling that he was glad Jon had not joined them today.  
   
____

Robb woke up with a start. He could feel the burning pain along his left side as soon as he regained consciousness. It was dark in his chambers- he did not how much time had passed since the attack after he had passed out. Judging by the amount of light visible though, he estimated it was well after dusk. Gingerly, he reached out a hand to pat the injury but found it suddenly grasped tightly by someone who was sitting next to his bed.

“Don’t touch it. Maester Luwin says to let it heal naturally,” Jon’s soft voice came to him in the darkness.

_Oh god, Jon._

“Jon-“he started to say.

“Don’t. Don’t say anything,” he was cut off brusquely. “I will go and inform the Maester that you are awake.” 

Before Robb could say anything else, Jon got up and walked away. With a sigh, he settled back in his furs, wincing when the small action pulled on his injury. He lay there, breathing through the pain when he heard hurried footsteps and a moment later, his parents and the Maester burst through the door.

His lady mother was pale and when she caught sight of him, tears formed in her eyes. “My little boy,” she whispered, reaching him and running her hand through his hair. “Oh how brave you have been!” she stooped down to kiss his brow, gently settling next to him on the bed afterwards and grasping his hand in her clammy ones.

Maester Luwin was upon him next, gently pressing along with stomach and asking, “Tell me where it hurts Robb.” A few minutes of fussing later, and a few pokes that brought inadvertent tears to his eyes, the Maester declared him well enough to rest without the aid of milk of the poppy. His father stood in the background, a stoic expression on his face. He came forward when the Maester departed, and rested his hand on his uninjured shoulder. “You have acted remarkably well under pressure, Robb,” he said softly with a gentle squeeze to his shoulder. “You protected your brother and those under your care. You have kept the Stark name alive- showing bravery and loyalty. I couldn’t be more proud.”

Robb blinked, feeling emotional all of a sudden. “Thank you father,” he managed to croak out. His father nodded at him, and gave his shoulder a gentle squeeze again. “We will speak of the attack in detail once you are well. Get some rest now son.” Ned then looked at his lady wife and when she nodded at him, he too left to return to his duties.

His mother then captured his attention. “How are you feeling now?” she asked, carding her fingers through his curls gently. The action soothed him and reminded him of the times when he was little and he used to go to her with all his hurts, and she would kiss his bruises and wipe his tears with a gentle smile, the same smile that was now gracing her face as she looked down at him lovingly. He never doubted the love his good mother had for him, but somehow he had lost sight of that as he grew older. He was reminded of this strongly now.

“I am good now Mother. How is Bran? Is he okay?” he inquired.

“Yes, he had jumped from his horse as soon as the first wildling had sprung up. The little lord is getting good at that,” she said with a quite laugh, unshed tears still shining bright in her eyes.

Robb laughed along with her. Yes his little brother had become quite adept at climbing walls and jumping from heights. He had his good mother scared about his safety all the time.

Suddenly feeling exhausted, he yawned. His mother immediately noted his drop in strength. Still carding her fingers through his hair she softly told him, “You should rest now my love. I will stay with you.”

He was asleep in seconds.

___

 

The second time he woke up, he was instinctively aware that Jon was there with him. His brother was perched on the edge of the chair dragged next to his bed, and was sleeping awkwardly- just barely managing to rest his head on the bed next to Robb’s hand which was held tightly in his grip. Robb stared at him for a moment, feeling an intense wave of affection as he gazed at the curly mop of hair. He gently tugged on his hand and the slight movement woke his brother up. Robb watched him fondly as he blinked awake slowly, eyes fluttering, and the moment he became aware that Robb was awake, he started tugging his hand back. Robb was having none of it though. He knew what Jon was doing. 

“Look at me Jon,” he whispered.

Jon shook his head, looking everywhere but at Robb. 

“Please?”

For a long moment, Jon continued looking down, shoulders drooping to match his mood. But then he straightened, and looked at Robb finally. The sight of his red-rimmed eyes tugged on Robb’s heartstrings. His brother had always been strong- stronger than he usually let on. He had never seen him cry for someone before, and the evidence that he had broken down due to Robb’s injury made something clench in his chest.

“Oh darling, come here.” He pulled Jon by the hand, and with some manoeuvring to avoid jostling his injury, he soon had him settled next to him on his uninjured side. Jon buried his face in his neck and in a few minutes, Robb could feel the wetness there as he started crying silently. “Hush now... I’m fine. See? Alive and well. I’m fine, hush.” Robb soothed his trembling brother, pulling him in tighter against his body. He could well imagine the fear Jon must have felt when an unconscious and heavily bleeding Robb would have been brought in. Robb tried to imagine if the situation had been reversed, and he had to stop thinking immediately else he would never let his brother go out of his sight for even a second.

Eventually, Jon was all cried out. He still did not remove his face from where he had it pressed against Robb’s neck and Robb wanted to see his face. He needed to look in those eyes and calm himself that Jon was fine. He grabbed Jon’s hair and tugged on it to lift his face up, critically staring at the flushed face. Jon shakily raised a hand to rub at his face, wiping away the tear tracks still glistening on the pale cheeks. Robb looked at him and finally managed to catch his eyes. “I am fine,” he again reiterated softly. 

“I, I know that,” Jon began in a broken voice. He cleared his throat visibly and made himself go on. “But I should have been there with you Robb. I am always there with you everywhere you go. What are the chances that the one time we separate, things go so badly? I should never have said no when you asked me to come with you,” he ended, clearly miserable and blaming himself, the little idiot.

Robb had to defend that statement immediately. “No, it was for the best that you were not there. Jon, the only way I was able to fight was having the knowledge that you were safe here! I would have lost my mind had you been there when they attacked. I was _never_ so glad as I was at that moment,” he said hotly. 

“But-“

“No Jon. I know you can hold your own in a fight. I know that. But knowing that you are equipped and being forced to see you in a situation which is so dangerous- I don’t know what I would have done then,” he confessed. 

A minute later, Jon shifted, and moved so that they were now resting forehead to forehead. 

They stayed that way for a long moment, just breathing together and assuring themselves that the other was out of harm’s way now. Jon began speaking then, his lips brushing Robb’s with each word. “I was so scared Robb. I have never been so scared before in my life as when I saw you being brought back- Lady Stark would not allow me entrance to your chambers as Maester Luwin was treating you and I didn’t know if you were even _alive_.” He broke off here, trying to control his emotions. Robb raised his hand to cup his cheek, brushing his thumb against the soft skin. 

“Please never do that to me again Robb. _Promise me_.” Jon lifted his head a little to look at him straight in the eyes and Robb just nodded back, chest tight at the emotions he could see swirling in the grey eyes he so dearly loved. 

“I promise,” he said quietly, squeezing Jon's arms. They stared into each other's eyes then, drinking in the emotions visible there. All of a sudden, with a broken moan, Jon leaned down and pressed his mouth to Robb’s own parted one. He was shivering, and Robb just wanted to hold him tight, so tight that they would never be apart again. He wanted to comfort him, wanted to make him feel safe. Robb kissed back just as desperate and closed his eyes, paying no attention to the abrupt lurch in his heart at the action and suppressing the alarming voice clamoring at the back of his mind. He ignored the tears that were dripping down his face steadily with each press of lips as he ignored the fact that his eyes were tearing up as well.

Robb made a silent promise to himself then. _'We will always be together, come what may.'_

____

 

The wildling attack that happened some moons back brought to the notice of the Lord of Winterfell that the situation at the Wall was not good. Ned would need to send able-bodied men to the Wall soon. They had caught a Night’s Watch deserter though, and as per the law, he had to be executed for breaking his oaths.

Ned had made sure Bran had seen the duty that being the Warden of North entailed when he did the execution. Jon and Theon had both been regulars at the executions which took place in the past, but Robb had been left behind this time as he was still recuperating from his injury.

After he handed Ice to his squire to wipe, and left the others to do the clean up, Ned approached his second youngest son who was looking a little pale, as he clutched Jon’s hand which was placed comfortingly on his shoulder. “This is one of the duties the Lord of Winterfell must fulfill Bran. Always remember that the man who passes the sentence, must swing the sword.” The boy straightened at his words and nodded. Ned nodded in return and started his walk back to where the horses were tethered.

Jon was ruffling Bran’s hair approvingly and the boy smiled up at his brother. “You did good, little Lord.” Ned heard him whisper to Bran which earned him a beaming smile. He smiled to himself. Jon was very good with the kids, he thought to himself as he mounted his horse. All his kids really loved him like their own sibling. All except for Sansa, he thought ruefully. He heard the others mounting up their steeds behind him and in a few minutes they started the return trek back to Winterfell. 

On the way back, they came across the body of a massive direwolf, killed by the stag-antler which had pierced through its heart. They could have avoided the gruesomeness by riding past the dead body quickly but curiosity was very strong in his men. Ned saw the glances his men exchanged- this was a bad omen. He cautioned his children to not go near the body, and they were heeding his advice, trotting away from the patch of blood which had seeped through the snow; but then they heard a plaintive whine and he could not stop Jon from dismounting to search for what had made the sound. It turned out that the direwolf was a female and had died after giving birth to five little pups, two of which were now nestled in Jon’s arms. 

 

Theon had also gotten down to investigate and was now standing next to Jon, holding one little pup by the scruff of its neck.“I say we kill them, Lord Stark. They will not survive without the mother anyway,” the boy said with a strange smirk, drawing out his dagger to act upon his words.

Bran’s wordless cry stopped him in his tracks though. He looked up at Ned, waiting for his orders. Bran turned to look at him too, and he could see the plea in his eyes to not let the pups come to harm. He was pondering over his decision when Jon spoke up. “Five Stark trueborns and five direwolf pups,” he said quietly. 

“What did you say boy?” Jory asked him, eyeing him curiously.

Jon turned to Ned then. “The sigil of House Stark is the great direwolf. There are just enough pups as your children Lord Stark. These pups were meant for your children,” he said, voice softening at the end.

Five children. _Not six._ He was excluding himself from the Stark family. Ned was once again faced with the unpleasant truth that Jon carried a wrong knowledge of his parentage and it was all due to him, and the fact that it weighed heavily on his nephew. He also knew very well that had Robb been here, Jon would have swallowed these words back, simply to avoid his heir the pain of hearing the truth, however bitter it may be.

Bran was now pleading as well. “Please father! Please can we keep them?”

With a heavy sigh, Ned nodded. The smile on his son’s face was so bright that he could not stop smiling back at the little boy. He watched Jon place one pup carefully in Bran’s eager arms and directed his guards to pick up the remaining pups. “Bran. You will be responsible for your pup. You will train it, and feed it and if it dies, bury it yourself. I will not have you burden your Lady mother unnecessarily with the additional care of five growing pups. Is that understood?” he asked sternly. Bran nodded back frantically, already half in love with the squirming wolf in his arms. 

All those who had dismounted were set to mount back when Theon stopped in his tracks. He went to the other side of the direwolf’s body and was soon standing, holding a small white lump in his hand. “Look, the runt of the litter! Seems like you get a direwolf too, bastard,” he said mockingly. Jon was not listening to his words though- his eyes were fixed on the snow white pup that was barely moving. Theon tossed him the lump and Jon caught it with a glare, cradling it immediately. The Greyjoy boy laughed unpleasantly, lifting his hands to show he meant no harm. 

“Come then. Let’s return back home,” Ned commanded and everyone scrambled to obey him.

They reached Winterfell well after the sun had set.

As expected, Catelyn was not pleased that Ned was allowing the children to have direwolves as pets. They exchanged heated words as their children(with the exception of Robb) converged in the yard, beyond excited to get their new pets. Arya was laughing as the wolf she had chosen bit her fingers playfully. Rickon was already off with his pup, no doubt creating havoc. Even prim and proper Sansa was kneeling in the mud, watching the pup eat from her hand with a look of wonder on her face. Bran had already bonded with his chosen pet and was busy in trying to get it to obey his commands to sit and stand.

A quick look around confirmed that Jon was not there. He had obviously taken his and Robb’s pup up to the chambers where Robb was resting. Ned made a note to check up on them later, and with a sigh, turned back to his lady wife to try and convince her to let the children have their fun.

After dinner, Ned made his way to Robb’s chambers. He opened the door and peered in. The sight that greeted him warmed his heart and he leaned against the open door, just watching.

Robb was sitting up in his bed, his pup in his lap and facing him, with his own pup in his lap was Jon. They were wrestling with the pup’s paws and knocking each other down, complete with mock battle sounds and fake hurt noises. The scene reminded him of the harsh fact that despite how many responsibilities Robb had started shouldering, he was still just a child. Robb had not shown this side of him to his parents for a long time. He had to grow up too fast. But looking at the playful way they were fighting now, it seemed that his heir still had that side to him- but the only one he was comfortable enough in showing it to, was Jon. The smile on his heir’s face as they battled was so bright that Ned’s heart clenched. 

Closing the door softly, Ned stood there for a moment, abruptly reminded of the way Lyanna, Brandon, Benjen and Ned himself used to stage mock fights and play acted being Knights of the Realm when they were young. With a lump in his throat, he remembered his sister and the graceful way she would fight back, not giving any of them even a quarter-Jon was so much like her in that manner. Oddly nostalgic for his childhood days, Ned quietly made his way back to his solar. He would not disturb them today. Let them have their fun for a little while longer. (Cause Gods only knew this would not last for long). Ned would do anything to avoid that. 

 

____

Arya Stark felt that she was a true Northerner. 

She hated the Southron customs her mother made them follow, and had a deeper abhorrence for the finery that her mother and sister always dressed up in, and loathed the fact that they wanted her to be like them- ‘that is not proper’ her mother would chasten her whenever she did something unladylike in her mother’s opinion. She misliked the fact that she was not supposed to train to fight. ‘A lady has no place on the battlefield’ her sister would tell her demurely, as she would sigh and then proceed to dream about her ‘princes’. Gah! Sometimes Arya just wanted to hit her sister.

But when she was with her brothers, she was free to do as she wished. They allowed her to train (secretly of course), even taught her how to hold a sword correctly, and would help her escape from Septa Mordane’s evil clutches. She would often take refuge in Jon’s chambers whenever the good Septa’s teachings became too much for her and she knew that her mother detested that. 

Arya did not understand why her mother did not like Jon. He was her favorite sibling - he would always take out the time for her whenever she needed him to. If she had any troubles, she would always go to him with them and he would always soothe them even as he ruffled her hair. _(She had been so scared that she was a bastard as she did not take after the Tully looks, but Jon had been there to calm her)_. 

Now, as she, Jon and Bran were racing with their direwolves in the forests of Winterfell, she felt the freest she had even been. Nymeria was chasing after her heels and she could see Jon upfront with Ghost running alongside him and Bran with Summer was following them, trying to keep pace. Their wolves were growing up very fast, and they had taken the opportunity to train them today as Father and Mother had gone on a weeklong visit to Riverrun, her Mother’s ancestral home. Arya was saddened by the fact that they had to sneak around to train their pet wolves because Mother disliked having the great beasts spend so much time with her children. She did not understand though- direwolves were Starks, and as long as there were Starks at Winterfell, there would be direwolves too.

They raced back to Winterfell again without stopping for breath, and this time Arya’s competiveness forced her to put on a burst of speed and she flew past her older brother who suddenly was suspiciously lagging. “I win!” she panted out, as she reached the gates of Winterfell. Jon was laughing (she loved to hear him laugh) and Bran was whining about losing again. Arya rolled her eyes. You had to do what you had to do in order to win. She barely made it inside the gates before exhaustion took over, legs trembling, and she toppled face-first in the yard. She breathed in deeply, taking in the smell of pine and snow and something that was uniquely home. She felt Bran collapse next to her, and he was gulping in air as if he was dying. Arya turned her face a little and opened one eye to glare at him. No stamina at all, she thought to herself. The soft footfalls next to them and the rush of air barely warned her of the incoming attack. She squealed when Jon picked her up practically one-handed and proceeded to tickle her. She laughed and laughed until she collapsed in his lap, leaning back against his chest. “So, little sister, what do you want as your prize for winning?” he asked her, grinning down at her flushed face.

Bran grabbed her ankle then, opening his mouth to tell his idea for what her prize should be. She kicked him though and he curled away, pouting heavily. Jon chuckled at that, snaking one hand to grab her brother and pull him up against his side as well. He kissed his sweaty little brow, and Bran pressed his smiling face in the curve of Jon’s neck. Arya rolled her eyes again with a snicker of her own. The little faker!

Her brother then stood up, carrying his siblings under each arm. “Come on; let’s go find your other siblings. We can decide what to do then.” Arya pulled away, slithering down to collect her pet first. She then followed her brother as he made his way into the castle, and ran ahead when they neared their father’s solar which Robb was temporarily using as acting Lord of Winterfell, in their father’s absence. She burst into the room, startling the occupants as she all but tripped over the sleeping direwolf (her elder brother’s, she noted absently.) Sansa gave her a disappointed look at her disheveled appearance and she scowled back when she saw Sansa herself was busy with needlework. Honestly! 

Robb was smiling at them though. She smiled back eagerly as she went up to him and proceeded to tell him all about their training and boasted how she had won their race. She saw her brother’s share a look at that, and narrowed her eyes suspiciously. But before she could open her mouth to ask about that, Robb grinned at her fondly and asked her what they should do this evening. Arya happily told him that they should all play a game with their wolves (it involved hiding and scaring the crap out of each other). Sansa protested as usual, but was quickly overruled by her elder brothers.

They proceeded to then play and thereby passed a most enjoyable evening.

It was a little later, and the tired Stark brood was relaxing after supper. Arya was comfortably laying on the ground near the hearth, Nymeria a warm weight against one side while the fire warmed the other. Sansa and Bran were playing with their wolves in one corner quietly, while her youngest brother was asleep next to Jon, head in his lap. Jon was reading something, one hand carding through Rickon’s curls. Robb was busy scribbling some missive at their father’s desk, even after Jon had urged him to come and sit next to them. Arya closed her eyes, content with her pack being around her. She opened them again a few minutes later when she heard a rustle. Jon was standing, with Rickon in his arms. He was about to leave when Robb turned at his desk and caught his hand, a questioning look on his face. Her brother freed his hand and dragged his fingers through Robb’s hair as well, murmuring that he would be back after putting Rickon to bed. Robb nodded with a smile and turned back to his work. Arya again closed her eyes, contentment still thrumming through her.

She had fallen asleep, but woke up with a start when she heard murmurs again. Slitting her eyes open, she looked around and sure enough it was her elder brother making the noises. Jon had finally managed to get him to relax next to the Stark pile in the middle of the chambers, and he was settling back against the fire, curling up in the pelt there. As she watched, Robb pulled Jon to nestle against him and buried his face in the curve of his neck (similar to the way Bran had done earlier). Jon appeared to relax further at that, leaning his head on Robb’s auburn curls and Arya was surprised at herself that she hadn’t noticed the tightness in his shoulders till it was gone. Jon was blinking slowly as he unwound further against Robb and each blink kept coming later and later till he just fell asleep, propped up next to Robb. Arya marveled at that- looked like they had really worn him out today. Her brother shared her views it seemed, as he straightened carefully and shifted, not jostling his sleeping sibling at all until they were both lying down, Robb with his head resting against the pelts they had just been leaning on, and Jon curling up unconsciously into his brother’s warmth, head now resting on Robb’s chest. Robb wrapped one arm around his shoulders and gently ran the fingers of his other hand through Jon’s hair. 

Arya knew her brothers were close. Too close, according to her mother. She knew that Jon was not treated well by the Stark matriarch. But her brother more than made up for that, she felt, as Robb was always involving Jon in everything he did. She sometimes envied their closeness- they had no secrets between them and were the best of friends. Arya wanted that close relationship with someone too. She wanted to have a person who was just _hers_ , in the way Jon was Robb's and Robb was Jon's. Other people ceased to exist for them when they were together and that was so sweet that Arya ached with it sometimes. She wondered how that would feel- to have that much unwavering love and trust in another person as she continued watching the slow drag of Robb's hand along Jon's side. 

Feeling her eyes on him, Robb turned and caught her stare. He smiled softly then and murmured a quite good night. Smiling back at the picture they made _(like wolf pups, her internal voice squealed)_ she bade him a good night too and closed her eyes.

She was with her pack, and there was no better feeling than that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really, really wanted to write this fic from a 3rd person POV- I wanted to explore how others perceive the relationship between our two favourite brothers. I don't know if I have quite pulled it off though (sigh).
> 
> On a side note, I've been doing the mandatory series rewatch in preparation for S7 and have some questions that still niggle me from S1/S2-hit me up with your thoughts /opinions abt them if you are interested -  
> 1\. In the show, did Jamie send the assassin to kill Bran?  
> 2\. Why did Catelyn take the stupidest decision of all time to kidnap Tyrion? IMO had she not done that Ned and the girls would have had the slightest chance to escape King's Landing before Littlefinger distracted the good Lord with his schemes. And the Lannisters would probably have not gone to war so fast. I think.  
> 3\. As we all know Jon's parentage now, can we ask why did his hand burn when he was saving Lord commander Mormont from the wight? Does this mean he will not have enough claim as Daenerys?  
> 4.Why did Sansa not go with the Hound when he was leaving King's landing?  
> 5.Why did Arya not give Jaqen Tywin's name?  
> 6.Robb marries Talisa under the Seven? Didn't he worship the old gods? 
> 
> And on a whole new side note, I must say that the character development of some people from S1 to S6 has been pretty massive - esp Jon who goes from being a impulsive honourable idiot to a strong commander :) And Cersei - Gods she is the smoothest bloody manipulator of all time!! 
> 
> Also, boy did Kit look pretty in S1 though! I could not take my eyes of him whenever he was onscreen (facepalms) 
> 
> (So sorry for the loooong endnote - I am super pumped for the new season so can barely contain my excitement)


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the late update guys- RL was being a bitch. 
> 
> Anyways, here you go!

Robb staggered back to Winterfell from the brothel, drunkenly giggling with Theon. It was the day after his seventeenth nameday celebration and he was drunk because of Greyjoy. The Ironborn had made plans for him that he had promised would be spectacular. 

 

The older boy had wanted to sleep at the brothel itself, and the willing redhead in his bed had been eager enough to make them stay. But Robb had been feeling restless there- even when he had a beautiful blonde writhing on top of him- ready to service the heir of Winterfell anyway he wanted. The only problem was he did not want that. Drunk as he was, he still did not want that. He did not want the lips that were kissing their way down his body, did not want the hands caressing his chest through his somehow open tunic. He did not want to clutch blonde hair in his fist as he grinds himself against the willing body, and he did not want to look into blue or black or green eyes while he did that. He wanted- he wanted- (slate grey eyes, shining in amusement or darkened in thought; hair as black as the bark of the weirwood trees against the fallen snow and softer than the snow itself; hands calloused with the handling of swords, rough when fighting, and gentle when tending to injuries and scrapes; mouth as red as sin itself, bitten in concentration, smiling when pleased-) Robb spent himself with a sigh as the girl writhed against him urgently, gasping and already forgetting the direction his thoughts had taken under the influence of the influx of drink he had consumed.

 

Now, he was drunkenly making his way through a silent castle, with his partner in crime singing bawdy songs that has them both in splits. He was in good spirits, and when Theon left him at his chambers with a drunken kiss on his cheek and a loud cheery good night, he stumbled to his bed and collapsed on the furs, closing his eyes to rest his spinning head. He lay there for a few minutes, but couldn’t sleep. Something was missing. He drunkenly patted his hand across the bed but only found the cold furs in his search. Blearily raising his head, he looked around the room. What- oh. No Jon.

 

Where was his brother? He was supposed to be here. A faint alarming sensation was niggling at the back of his mind as he tried to recollect where his wayward brother was the last he had seen him. He had come across the brooding boy when he had been sneaking out with Theon, he remembered dimly. Robb could just remember the unhappy twist to his mouth as he stood there in the shadows, looking at them with an unreadable look in his eyes. Robb had wanted to go up to him, and ask him what was wrong, but Theon had pulled him away with a smirk at Jon, and Robb had stupidly followed. 

 

And now he was not in his bed where he was supposed to be.

 

Mouth turning down in a frown, Robb got up unsteadily to make the long trek to the other side of the castle when Jon still resided. He cursed his lady mother for not allowing Jon to shift his chambers as well to the new wing, and made his way slowly across the darkened corridors. When the familiar door was in sight, Robb started walking faster, and hurriedly made his way inside the warm chambers, shutting the door to ward off the chill. Groggily, he approached the bed where he could just see the dark curls hidden beneath the furs. He crawled under the furs on his side of the bed and reached out a hand to pull his sleeping brother to his side. 

 

“Don’t touch me,” Jon snapped, curling into himself tighter. 

 

“What?” Robb asked, bewildered, his hand still outstretched between them. Apparently his brother was awake. “Why not?” he questioned, a little lost.

 

“You reek, Robb. I do not want to smell that, thank you very much, ” Jon said waspishly.

 

“Reek? I bathed today-“

 

“You stink of the brothel!” Jon’s voice broke on the last word. “You smell like whatever whore you fucked. I do not want that smell all over me,” he said that last part miserably , the anger in his voice giving way to hurt.

 

Robb blinked, throat suddenly tight with an unnamed emotion.

 

“You did not mind that before,” he said slowly. “You know Theon has been taking me to the brothel since I turned ten and four. I do not understand,” he trailed off, sober now and focused on the dark head refusing to meet his eyes.

 

“I don’t know what you do not understand, my lord. I just- I just want to sleep without breathing in your activities Robb,” Jon said tiredly, closing his eyes tightly. After a silent moment, he whispered, “I think it would be best if you slept in your room from now on.”

 

Robb reared back in shock. Jon was kicking him out of his chambers?

 

“No! Why will I – Jon!”

 

“Please,” he said, so softly Robb had to strain his ears to listen to it. It sounded like he was crying then, when he heaved a sobbing breathe and gritted out, “Please just leave.”

 

Heart breaking in his chest, and good mood all but vanished the moment Jon had snapped at him to not touch him, Robb withdrew. He stared at the way his brother curled away from him, showing him his shaking back. It seemed as if something of import had happened- Robb had lost something he valued and for the life of him, he did not understand what.

 

“Okay. As you wish,” he whispered back hoarsely, suddenly close to tears himself. He made his way to the door and stood there for a moment, looking back at his brother’s shaking form. What had he done? 

 

________

 

Jon swung his sword one last time, and then stopped, chest heaving with the exertion. He had been trying to exhaust himself to sleep the past few weeks as apparently his body now could not rest unless it was curled up next to Robb’s. Closing his eyes with a heavy sigh, Jon planted his sword on the ground and sunk down, resting his tired head on the hilt. He wanted to go and grab Robb and just pull them both back to their shared furs and just sleep. For days. He missed his brother terribly. He missed the way Robb would unconsciously pull him closer as they slept, tangling them further so that when they awoke, neither could make out where one ended and the other began. He missed Robb burying his face in his neck and the way he would brush his lips across the bared expanse of Jon’s neck and suck at his throat and the sharp feeling that sensation evoked in him. He missed the fraternal devotion they shared and Jon could not understand why he was still fighting with Robb. It was the longest they had spent apart ever and he was feeling the withdrawal sorely.

 

But then he remembered how Robb had staggered back from his trip to the brothel with Theon; he still remembered the smell clinging to Robb’s clothes and the hot churning in his stomach when he realized Robb had- Robb had done something with the whores this time; and he remembered the sharp pain in his chest at that realization. He still could not understand why he had felt that way. 

 

Robb was in the wrong here, Jon was certain of that fact at least.

 

Heaving to his feet after a long moment, he started back to his chambers for another solitary sleepless night. Bet Robb was sleeping well, dreaming about his whores, Jon thought viciously. He had not tried to confront Jon since that night when Jon had first not allowed him to sleep in the same bed. Robb should have sought him out and apologized. Even his siblings, especially little Arya, thought so and were fierce in their support for him – though they did not understand the nature of their argument (Jon himself was not sure about that). Lord Stark had frowned at seeing the two boys not attached at the hip as always- it was an incongruous sight to see one without the other it seemed as Jon had been approached by countless people, inquiring if he and the future lord of Winterfell had had a falling out. Not that it mattered to the said future Lord, Jon thought to himself bitterly, as he had gone about his duties as if nothing had happened. Lady Catelyn was definitely happy at the turn of events, going forward so much as to even once twitch her lips at him in an approximation of a smile when he crossed paths with her. Theon, and Gods did Jon hate that arrogant asshole, was also pleased with the falling out as now he had Robb’s attention on him always as he had wanted from the start. He smirked at him whenever their eyes met, be it at the training ground which Jon had taken to frequent at the times he knew Robb was busy in his other duties, or during dinner, when Jon would just quietly eat the meal placed in front of him and leave as fast as possible without meeting anyone’s (Robb’s) eyes.

 

The avoiding was taking his toll on him. He was exhausted almost all the time, and was not sleeping well due to the absence of his sleeping partner. With a sigh, Jon entered his chambers and closed the door behind him, leaning against the solid wood for a moment, trying to draw strength enough to complete his chores before he could collapse onto his furs. He was suddenly tired to the bone, and without thought, he started stripping there only. Once down to his smallclothes, he wandered to the hearth to make sure the fire wouldn’t burn out during the night. Without Robb to warm him up, Jon had to depend on the fire and his furs to keep him from catching a cold. He cast a baleful look at the furs as he slowly made his way to his bed-by the Gods, he so wanted to just say to hell with everything and beg Robb to come back to him. He just- he wanted Robb. Tears sprung to his eyes as he tried to compose himself, and he hung his head, breathing shallowly to avoid sobbing outright.

 

The hand coming up to touch his shoulder startled him badly. He jerked his head up and stared in shock at the sight before him. 

 

Robb was in his bed.

 

Jon could not believe his eyes. He blinked several times to make sure he was not seeing things. He had been sure that Robb was avoiding him as much as he was avoiding Robb (and in his miserably alone moments, he had taken to thinking that he had made a mistake in sending Robb away that night). But no, that was his beloved brother, sitting up in his furs, blue eyes warm in the light of the fire. The hand on his shoulder tightened, and drew him near. In a daze, Jon went as directed without a word and soon he was covering Robb’s body with his own. He held himself up on his arms above Robb, staring searchingly at that much missed face. Robb slowly leaned up, and kissed him on his brow. Jon shivered, his arms trembling with the effort to hold himself up. 

 

“Robb- “he whispered desperately.

 

Robb said nothing, instead pressing his lips tighter to Jon’s brow. He let his lips linger there for a few moments and then he was dragging his lips across Jon’s face. He kissed his eyes which had somehow fallen closed, kissed his cheeks, his nose and then he stopped. Jon could feel his breath on his lips, and something shivery crept through him at the thought that Robb would- that Robb wanted to – he couldn’t complete the thought before Robb gently brushed his lips against Jon’s. (He remembered he had had that hot mouth pressed against his before – when Robb had been attacked by the wildlings, but this was nothing like that- that had been for comfort; this felt like something entirely new)

 

Jon opened his eyes to look down. Robb was looking up at him with an expression he could not read and he could have sworn moments ago, that he could read Robb like the back of his hand. There was something indefinable in his eyes, and it was bringing that shivery hot sensation back. Slowly, very slowly, Jon dipped his head, keeping his eyes on Robb’s the entire time. Robb stared back, and the moment their lips met, he closed his eyes with a sigh. 

 

Heart pounding madly in his chest, Jon closed his eyes too and he kissed his brother softly. This was something that Jon had no experience in and he was feeling strange fluttery sensations at the way Robb was titling his head to try and connect their lips better. The question of what the hell they were doing was pushed to the back of his mind when Robb suddenly shifted; he grabbed Jon’s nape in a tight grip to keep their mouths connected and then Jon’s world was shifting as Robb rolled them over so that he was now on top. Jon gasped at that- the way Robb’s solid body was pressing him down had his heart beating wildly in his chest. Robb took that opportunity to pull Jon’s lower lip in his mouth and suck. Jon moaned at that. They both froze at that sound.

 

With a wet plop, Robb released his mouth and dragged himself apart just enough to look at Jon in the face. 

 

“I’m sorry, “he said softly. “I am so sorry I went along with Theon’s stupid plan. I promise I will never do that again, “he said fervently. 

 

Jon stared up into his brother’s blue eyes, which were tracing his face with an urgency he could sympathize with as he was doing the same- drinking in the sight of his brother like he would never see him again. The plea for forgiveness that was there in those very eyes made something tight inside him relax and loosen. Feeling lighter than he had in a long time, and strangely relieved, Jon smiled up at him shyly. “It’s okay,” he whispered back, reaching out a shaking hand to tangle in the red curls falling over his brow. 

 

“Can we sleep in the same bed now?” Robb asked tentatively. Jon dragged him back to himself with the hold he had of his hair, letting out a sigh as Robb buried his face in his neck. He was almost crushed under his weight, but was feeling so comfortable and so loved that he tugged Robb even closer. He wanted to be closer still- he wanted there to be no air in between their bodies. Pressing his lips to the beloved brow, and feeling the way Robb had started to suck at his neck as usual, he gave a contented sigh.

 

“Can I try something?” Robb asked into his neck, voice muffled.

 

In answer, Jon tilted his head. Robb nuzzled closer, and he tightened his grip on the shoulder he was clutching as he let go of Robb’s hair. He gasped as Robb opened his mouth to bite at his neck, feeling his pulse thundering in his ears. Robb dragged his open mouth along the length of his neck, sucking wet kisses into the soft skin behind his ear. Unconsciously, he was squirming against his brother’s bulk, letting his legs fall apart as Robb rolled on top of him fully, still kissing his throat and biting at his jaw now. Robb wormed one hand up to grasp his hair and the other he snaked beneath Jon’s body to press against his own tighter and Jon wrapped his legs around Robb's body. With the hand in his hair, Robb tugged to align their faces together. They were breathing past each other’s mouths now and with each panting breath, they were drawing inexorably closer until they were kissing softly. Jon felt his eyes - slitted open till now to look at his brother - fall closed. When Robb ground down against him, Jon gasped and he felt Robb take the opportunity to deepen the kiss. Gods, he had never been kissed like this ever (the fumbling brushes of lips that he had had with Robb himself nowhere came near this- this _glorious_ meeting of their mouths). Robb nipped and sucked at his bottom lip and dove inside, tongues dueling when Jon opened his mouth more. He tentatively drew his brother’s tongue into his mouth and sucked, feeling Robb groan. They had stopped grinding against each other to just kiss, hands clutching faces to better move their heads this way and that to deepen the way their mouths were meeting . They kissed and kissed, breaking apart for air but being dragged back again by the other as soon as they caught their breaths. Jon was trembling, and he could feel Robb shaking against him. With a last nip and suck, Robb rolled away, heaving his body to the side. Breathing hard, they lay there, gasping till their breaths evened out.

 

“Um, what-“Jon started, just to fall back silent when no words were forming in his mind. All he could feel was the sensation of Robb’s lips on his, his tongue in his mouth (Gods he had his brother’s tongue in his mouth!)

 

Robb cleared his throat. “I was- I was just checking something, ” he said at last.

 

Jon wondered what he had been checking that needed that to happen.

 

“Okay,” he said, to his own surprise. 

 

“Okay?” Robb turned to look at him from the corner of his eye. 

 

Jon swallowed heavily. 

 

“I mean-“

 

“Do you mean to say that, if- I wanted to, um, check things again; would- would that be fine?” Robb mumbled questioningly, a strange tone in his voice. He was tracing a hand in the space between them on the bed, and was not meeting Jon's eyes. 

 

“Yes,” he said, heart pounding in his chest at the thought that that might happen again. “It would be okay,” he agreed faintly.

 

“Okay then,” Robb said, his own voice soft. 

 

Jon turned on his side as the conversation ended, tugging the furs up. He heard Robb do the same on his side, but he did not have the courage to look at him now.

 

With his fingers brushing his tingling lips, and mind awhirl, Jon fell asleep.

 

_______

Catelyn looked out the window overlooking the training grounds. Robb and Jon were busy sparring. Both were equally good, and the mock-fight appeared to be becoming real by the second. From experience Catelyn knew that neither would want the other to go easy on them- she had witnessed epic sulks from both when they had realized that victory had been given to them, rather than earned. 

 

As she continued watching, she became aware of a strange feeling. They were sparring as usual, but something was different in the intensity today. Robb was being more touchy than usual- when tripping Jon, he was letting his hand brush across the other boy’s chest, and when they clashed their swords together, it almost seemed as if he was straining to get closer to the Snow boy- almost as if – as if he was wanting to either bite him or kiss him. Taken aback at her own thoughts, Catelyn shook her head. No, he would not want that. Her little boy was innocent to the core in all such matters; she had made sure of that. (She ignored the fact that her little boy had a companion called Theon Greyjoy, and the fact that that boy was the worst companion a growing boy with urges could have).

 

But as she squinted at the sparring boys, she knew that something had changed between them. The bastard was glowering more than usual, while her little lord was grinning more than his usual cheery self was wont to. 

 

“Come on, Jon,” he was taunting. “I know you can do better than that. In fact, if you do, I will make sure to check things again,” he said with a smirk eerily reminiscent of the Greyjoy boy. Check things again? Catelyn wasn’t sure if that was some internal joke until she saw Snow redden. Robb gave a delightful laugh at that, noticing the blush as well. She was sure he had just said that to discomfit the other boy. But her eyes were now trained on the bastard. He was scowling prettily, responding to Robb’s goads easily. But it was his eyes that sent a chill through her. He was looking at her boy with so much heat in his eyes that Catelyn wanted to avert her own. And her boy- he was looking back at him in the same way. Catelyn suddenly felt as if she was intruding on a private moment. By the Gods, what had happened between the two of them? Feeling quite ill at the implications, she instead firmed her resolve to speak to her lord husband.

Something had to be done about the bastard.


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you everyone for your beautiful comments and awesome response! 200 kudos and so many comments and bookmarks! Yay for me :)
> 
> Sorry for the short update- work was crazy busy and I couldn't find time to write at all!
> 
> I am trying to wrangle some time to write, so let's see what happens....
> 
> Till then, enjoy and let me know what you think in your lovely comments!

The Hand of the King, Jon Arryn, was dead, and their King had requested Lord Stark to come visit King’s Landing. Everyone knew that it was just a ruse to let the Starks know that he had all but chosen Ned as his new Hand. Catelyn had been adamant that Ned not go, but the Lord of Winterfell was duty-bound and too honorable to not go when his King asked him of something.

 

Winterfell was in a controlled chaos. The King had also requested the presence of Ned’s elder daughter as there were hints that an alliance between the Houses Stark and Baratheon would be formed at last and everyone was in a tizzy at that. Sansa was floating around in a daze at being married to the Prince, and nothing - not even Arya’s foul mood at being forced to travel south- could bring her down. Ned had decided to take his younger two children – Arya and Bran – along with him as he felt Sansa would need her siblings there and Bran had always wanted to be a knight anyways. At King’s Landing, he would be able to meet many of the famous knights that up till now he had only heard about.

 

In the midst of it all, there was a raven from Riverrun that the Blackfish was back from his travels and wished to meet his nieces and nephews. Robb was going along with the King’s Landing party till Riverrun and would stay there for a moon’s turn after the party moved onward so that their uncle would get enough time with his favorite niece’s son.

 

Only Jon would be staying behind it seemed. Well Jon and Lady Stark with Rickon who was deemed too young to travel. Jon was not happy about being left behind and though he tried to hide it, Robb knew that from the miserable slump to his shoulders that was present whenever he thought no one was looking. So Robb doubled his efforts to cheer his favorite brother up till it was time for them to leave. They spent lazy afternoons in the pool in the Godswood, and even lazier evenings curling up together in their chambers. Robb desperately wanted to take Jon along but he knew his mother would disapprove and he did not want to instigate a fight when there was so much tension already with his father’s imminent departure.

 

The night before they were to leave, Robb was held up with his duties and it was very late by the time he made his way tiredly to Jon’s chambers. Jon was fast asleep; Ghost draped over his feet at the bottom of the bed and with a quite nudge, Robb woke the wolf up. Ghost blinked at him and Robb watched with tired amusement as the beast unwillingly jumped down. He then stripped efficiently and was soon curling up around the warm body of his brother. How would he ever sleep if Jon was not there next to him, he mused to himself. It seemed that sleeping apart had been forgotten by both of them. He pulled the plaint body closer to himself and buried his face in his customary place in Jon’s neck. Gods he would miss this. He couldn’t wait for the stupid trip to end and it had not even started. Robb knew somewhere in the back of his mind that this – dependency – was not healthy. But try as they might, they could not separate. Robb ignored the voice in his head which kept saying that brothers should not be so close and so attached- he did not feel the same way for Bran or Rickon (it was only Jon that made his breath catch at odd moments when he saw the soft smile on his brother’s face or when he caught his warm hand in his) - and as long as they were not harming anyone, there should not be an issue, he rationalized.

 

Jon turned then, even in his sleep seeking him out. With a lump in his throat, Robb leaned forward and brushed his lips across the soft ones before him. He winded one hand through Jon’s hair and used the other to fully turn his face to him as he continued kissing him, with a gentle pressure. 

 

The kissing had become sort of a routine for them now. It was something they now did for comfort and as a way to show their devotion to each other. It did not mean anything else- it was completely fraternal. They kissed when they woke up next to each other, and before they slept (when they did manage to complete their chores and come to bed at the same time that is), and sometimes when they were alone in the armory or in the godswood or when they were supposed to be reading in the library. Sometimes he would be the one to initiate the soft contact – side by side in the armory after training had completed, sweaty and tired but with adrenaline still pumping through their veins; Robb would pause in his clean-up and look at Jon who would be red-cheeked and just so vibrant that he could not help but lean forward and capture the sinful mouth with his. Jon would eagerly respond, swords and armor all but forgotten as they wound their arms around each other and pressed close and closer still; when they eventually broke apart, Jon would be hazy eyed and the sight of his brother – all disheveled and wrecked made something primal in Robb roar with satisfaction. They would then slowly resume their preciously forgotten activities, and before long would be joking and shoving each other as usual. It was as if this urge to kiss and claim just came upon them at times, and the rest of the times they were the same old boys who had grown up squabbling with each other. And sometimes Jon would initiate this delightful activity (Robb could not suppress the thrill that went through him each time Jon would catch his arm and pull him closer, mouths fitting easily against one another now, so dear and familiar). Jon would give him a quick kiss if he ever came upon Robb in his solar or going about on his duties; he would blush each time after they separated though, secretly delighting Robb. And sometimes at night, when they would curl up together, Jon would nuzzle against his neck like a cub, and offer his mouth sweetly to Robb, pulling him closer till he surrounded himself in Robb. Robb looked forward to such moments and in his heart of hearts he craved more - he did not exactly know what more he wanted (flashes of the time he had rutted and spent himself against the whore in Wintertown would come to him, leaving him strangely flustered for the entire day after that as he tried not to picture Jon instead of the blonde he had in his lap then)

 

Tonight, Jon slept on, and Robb paused for a long moment with his mouth still firmly against Jon’s, his warm breath fanning across Robb’s cheek as he searchingly looked at his sleeping brother, memorizing his face thoroughly. It was the first time since they had started this little activity of theirs that they would be apart for such a long duration. He did not want to contemplate how he would cope. After sometime, he moved to kiss Jon on the forehead, shifting to twist their bodies together tighter, and exhaled against the soft curls his face was now resting against.

The last coherent thought he had before he fell asleep was that he seriously could not wait for the trip to be over.

_________

 

Jon was in the stables, patting his horse down after a run through the wolfswood when a guard came up to him and said Lady Stark was requesting his presence in her solar. It was two days since his lord father and the rest of the Stark brood had started their journey to the southern region, and it was two days since he had bid Robb goodbye. It would be a long three moons before they met again. With a soft sigh, he remembered the fevered way Robb had claimed his mouth again and again the morning he was to depart (kissing him like, like he would do something else as well which made Jon hot and flustered). Jon had clung back as desperately himself and kissed back just as hard, and when he had gone to say his farewell to Arya and Bran, his little sister had narrowed her eyes at his disheveled state and bruised mouth. Jon had distracted her successfully by pointing at a sullen Nymeria who was as reluctant as her mistress to leave the north. His lord father had then called him and gripped his shoulder tightly as he asked him to look after Winterfell in Robb’s absence. After they left (Robb glancing back again and again to keep Jon in his sight as far as he could), Jon had been a little depressed. He was alone in a castle with none of his favorite people there to cheer him up. Only Lady Catelyn was left and she did not even acknowledge his presence on the best of days, let alone when she was acting as the head of the Stark family in Winterfell and shouldering all the responsibilities that came along with that.

 

So Jon was justifiably mystified at the summons- in all his life, not once had Lady Catelyn ever requested his presence; in fact she would turn her head away if he was ever called upon by his Lord father and she happened to be there next to him.

 

Ghost nipping at his heels, Jon set off towards her solar. He was strangely nervous. For the past few moons, Catelyn had been looking at him with even more disgust etched on her face whenever she chanced upon him, and he could not for the life of him think of the reason why. Approaching her solar, he knocked and waited till he heard a soft voice bidding him to enter. Lady Stark was standing next to the hearth, a blazing fire highlighting her stern features (the same features somehow were so beautiful on her firstborn though). She did not look up at his entrance, and Jon stood there, shifting from one foot to the other, waiting for her to address him.

 

A long moment later, which was filled with only the noise of the crackling wood, Lady Stark spoke.

 

“You are to ride for the Wall, as soon as possible.”

 

For a minute, Jon could not understand what she had said. The Wall? Why would he ride there? “My Lady? I don’t understand-“

 

“You are no longer welcome here bastard. I have spoken to my lord husband, and he has agreed to let you go to the Wall to take the oath and become a brother of the Night’s Watch. You are to take the black and serve there,” she interrupted him harshly.

 

Jon breathed in sharply. His father had agreed? He knew always that he had no place here at Winterfell, but somewhere in the back of his mind, he had always thought that he would stay on, become a part of the household guard or something like that. He was good with a sword, and he would fought and died for his father and for Robb when he became the next Lord of Winterfell. Somehow he had always thought that he would be next to Robb (like he knew in his heart of hearts, he was meant to). 

 

“My lady, I- I do not know what-“, he started, confused beyond reason and beginning to panic a little now. The Wall? They had heard stories of it of course, and Jon had once upon a time fancied himself serving as a brother if the Watch. But Robb. How could he leave his brother?

 

Lady Stark turned to look at him then, and the utter hatred and contempt he saw on her face made him stumble a step back.

 

“What do you not know, Jon Snow huh? What is so hard for you to understand? I want you to leave! I cannot bear your presence here even a second longer! My lord husband could not abandon you due to his honour, but I have done my duty till now and now I will discharge from it- you are now capable enough to survive on your own. So go- get out of my sight! I will not have you here, under my roof any more. I will not have you next to my son, the true heir of Winterfell. He will suffer no more from your dirty presence. You will leave for the Wall, and not come back. Do you understand?” she demanded harshly.

 

Jon had closed his eyes as soon as she had started to speak, and bowed his head now. He took each word like a blow and let it fall on him. She had always hated him he had known that, but this was the first time she had said it so fervently to his face. Taking in a trembling breath, Jon looked up. “I will go. I will not dishonor you any further my lady, but can I wait till Robb comes back? I would like to speak with him for one last time before-“

 

“No. You will ride out tonight itself. I have written to Benjen and he is coming here tonight to take you along with him. You will not speak to my son ever again- you will not send him any ravens, nor ask him to visit you. You have done enough. Now leave, get out of my sight.” She turned then, staring straight into the fire once more, shoulders tense as a bowstring, hair a red flame around her shoulders.

 

Eyes stinging, Jon gave a stiff bow and left the solar. He kept walking unseeingly, Ghost a silent presence at his side, till he reached his chambers. Leave Winterfell. Leave behind the only home he had ever known. At times in the past he had resented being here- when Lady Stark would not allow him to sit with the family or when people only acknowledged Robb, even when they were both present. But his beloved brother always without fail made sure to include him in all that he did. He loved Robb. He loved Arya and Bran and he loved his chambers and the tiny corner of the library he had claimed for himself, and the Godswood and the training field and the stables and this castle- he broke down then, curling into a ball on the floor. Ghost whined distressingly and tried to nuzzle him, and Jon wrapped a shaking arm around his pet. Leave Winterfell tonight. Leave his home tonight. Leave his heart tonight.

 

He would never see little Arya again and never know what a fearsome lady she will grow up to be. He would not see Bran become a knight. He would probably see his father who might come to visit him at the Wall. And Robb. Oh god, Robb. He would never see his beloved brother again. How would he ever live? The only thing good that was there in his life was his brother, and he was supposed to leave him? 

 

Jon cried then, gasping and clutching onto Ghost tightly, the pup trying to comfort him. What did the poor little beast know though? Nothing would ever give him comfort ever again now.

 

He was leaving his brother behind. His life held no meaning anymore now.


End file.
